


safety

by kunnskat



Series: Winter was Here [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Badass Arya, Family Feels, Gen, Sibling Relationship, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunnskat/pseuds/kunnskat
Summary: Books with the methods of traveling through time really ought to have warnings that when you enter your younger body, you'll also force that body to deal with everything it has yet to go through. Arya Stark was supposed to be the best choice out of the few left alive, and in a way she still is, because she knows how to use her lack of stability, but it's still a bother to burst out crying out of nowhere.ORBran Stark knows he's going to die that very day, so he spends the entirety of it telling his sister everything she'll need to know if she decides to go back in time, like he's seen that she'll try to.





	1. all my fault

**Author's Note:**

> This works under the concept that Bran and Rickon shares a room for a time while they're younger. Arya and Sansa at this time does not, because Arya has no doubt been deemed old enough to have her own and Sansa probably begged to not have to share anymore.
> 
> And fair warning about the timeline, half of it is what I've learned from the show as I've yet to read the books and only know parts of them from the internet, the other half is artistic license.

Arya Stark awakens in Winterfell, a little direwolf pup cuddled in her arms, and knows. 

Nymeria startles awake when she moves, but Arya shushes her and the little cub falls asleep again even as she carries it with her, wandering the halls and searching for the safety she'd lost when she'd fallen asleep. She wanders until she comes upon Bran and Rickon's room, and though she hesitates for a moment, because what if they're not there, she silently enters, her tense shoulders falling just a little at catching them both sound asleep in their beds. Both Summer and Shaggydog sleeps with them as Nymeria had with her, she remembers they'd been attached to them from the very beginning. 

It's when her thoughts wander to what it might have been like if their mother had survived that Bran stirs and peers sleepily at her, and she tries to smile but it feels foreign. Confusion draws his eyebrows together and she knows he's wondering why she's here when she usually prefers going to Jon if she has bad dreams, but before he can say anything, she slips back out. Maybe he'll think it a dream when he wakes again.

She barely hears him call her name as she wanders away, it's no doubt in order to not wake the youngest, but it doesn't matter because she doesn't answer, making her way back to her own room in silence, not one person passing her by.

Arya hadn't gotten to see Rickon again after she first left Winterfell, she'd almost forgotten what he looks like, and to see Bran now, tiny unbroken weak little Bran, when she'd gotten used to a Bran stronger than his body, a mind, powerful, it is different and no less jarring. That could, however, also be because the last time she'd seen him, he'd been dying, clinging to her hand as he tried to tell her everything he felt she'd need to know to survive.

She owes her Bran of the future her life many times over, despite the desperation she'd felt at the time of losing him, his easy acceptance of his own death infuriating her beyond belief, even after all that time she'd spent telling them that there is only one thing to say to the God of Death, and that is 'not today'.

They are not her brothers, they are what her brothers used to be. 

Climbing into her bed, she lays on her back, Nymeria awakening long enough to cuddle up to her side near the window, easily falling asleep next to what she only knows as her mother, the one who has taken her in and nurses her, teaches her. Arya promises herself that she'll be much more careful with her this time, teach her everything she can think of. And it's a lot, she knows a lot more now, knows useful things. For killing more than living, but she's a wolf, she'll survive like she always has. 

She should be packing, she's got somewhere she needs to be, but it is difficult to voluntarily leave home when she's been longing for it most of her life. 

She lays there so long that she the Septa enters her room, forces her up and dresses her, tying her hair into some ridiculous knot that she'll need help undoing later the moment she realizes Arya isn't fighting or complaining or stopping her in any way. 

The Septa takes a moment to touch her forehead, but seems to find no fault with her yet, so she sends her off to eat with everyone, not even telling her to leave Nymeria behind. Arya has worried her. Part of her feels slightly apologetic at that, but there is no regret, there will be none until it becomes a problem. 

She silently enters the hall, gently petting Nymeria as they draw near her family. 

Robb sits with Theon, talking, and Jon not far from them. Today is not one of politics or the likes, then, no image need be presented. That's good, Arya might not have been able to. Sansa sits with mother and father, however, Rickon along with them, and Bran next to father. 

Her heart aches at having to leave this all over again, how can she be certain they'll survive if she, who knows what is to come, is not there to save them?

She doesn't want to go.

“Arya!” Bran disrupts her thoughts, waving an arm, and mother shoots him a scolding look, but it appears he's not letting it stop him this time, a determined expression firm on his face as he waits for her to come over. 

“You're late,” her mother tells her, no doubt intending to scold her further for it and then get interrupted by father, as they always had when she'd been this age, but her eyes linger on the dress and on the hair more so than the wolf, and she settles into silence, letting Arya pretend to ignore her for the time being. 

She settles next to Bran and her father reaches over to pat her head, fondly greeting her though his eyes linger, too. She's also managed to effectively gain the attention of everyone else, unfortunately, because now everyone's watching her and she's yet to manage saying even a single word back. She thinks she couldn't even if she tried, she knows not how to speak without blubbering out words of grief and rage and desperation. 

Arya can only shrug in an attempt to make it seem like she doesn't care, shoving a piece of bread into her mouth to avoid making it seem like she's lost her voice. She'd like to say she hasn't, but a part of her wonders, too.

Bran speaks again, as if he thinks he can draw her out with constantly bombarding her with talking, “did you come by our room? Or was I dreaming? It was dark and Rickon and the wolves were sleeping and you had yours and she was sleeping but you weren't--”

She masks her guilt of waking him with a puzzled curiosity aimed at him in silence, head tilted as she chews her food, and she thinks he might drop it before Rickon chimes in with a pout, asking why they hadn't woken him, he'd have wanted to play too.

Arya only smiles at their youngest brother, forcing herself to pretend she can't see the growing worry in her family, or the way Theon is about to speak up but winces, as if someone kicked him to silence him. Probably Jon, he's always been very attentive for her sake. 

Bran rolls his eyes at Rickon, on purpose she can see, “we weren't playing, she just looked in on us and then left. If we were going to play, we'd wait for daylight.”

It sparks an argument she knows will only leave her safe from questioning during the meal. After will be a free for all, and unless she makes it to somewhere she can hide where none will find her, someone will ask again.

She sticks to bread, then silently excuses herself with a nod she knows none of them see before slipping out before they can stop her. She's supposed to be doing needlework with the Septa and the girls, but she'll probably be excused if they actually find her there, it'll be more cause for concern if she willingly goes. Best to hide, the broken tower Bran fell from – will fall from? – will do the trick, he's seemed distracted, so he might take time to look for her and he won't think to look where he usually goes. 

She lets Nymeria stay outside, though, near the kennels. She doesn't deserve to be cooped up and she can be used as a lookout while she's at it, maybe trick them into searching elsewhere. 

She'd had a plan to go, but that's lost now, so she's going to have to think of something else. Maybe now that she's seen them, she'll manage to go while everyone's asleep. She rather doubts it, but she's got to try or they'll all soon be dead. And she's already struggling to stay awake, this body isn't yet used to the fear and desperation that keeps her awake some nights, the worry that she'll be caught by Lannisters and lose her head just like her father had. Maybe be married off to some cruel old man to gain his favor, maybe even Walder Frey himself.

Arya shudders at the very thought, disgusted even if it'd give her access to the Twins. She'd just kill them all once more, if she could.

It must be her dark thoughts that bring the dreams she doesn't want back, every memory she'd spent years trying to forget and then some, all of them twisted into something worse that she knows walks the grounds even in this time. 

Jon riding off to the Wall and his horse falling, then him, then he rises and comes back with blue eyes and so cold skin it might as well be ice and holes in his chest. Sansa hugging Jon as their father loses his head and then she holds blue eyes too, before they kneel by what is left of father, helping him rise as something he's not. The crowd that appears around her claps in delight as Robb and their mother joins them on the scene, Robb with the head of a wolf only recognized by the crown on its head, and their mother as naked as the day she was born. Rickon bounces up to join them right after, so tiny and childish and happy to be with them. 

But Bran appears next to her, standing like he had in the weirwood dream. He takes her hand and smiles at her, still alive, and leads them to the rest of their family as if there's nothing wrong with them. Arya can't stop him, her feet won't obey her when she tells them to stop, her mouth won't obey her when she tells it to warn her brother, and her hand won't let go of his even when they fall upon them like beasts and Bran looks surprised and horrified and betrayed when he can't get Arya to run with him. 

"Arya!" She hears him scream at her, so upset that she wishes she could cry through the smile painted onto her face. "Arya!"

The rest of them are screaming with him, like they want her to join them in the darkness, but she can't move, she can't do anything, she's trapped exactly where she is, as she is. 

"Arya," this time the voice is soft, and warmth surrounds her as the horrors fade into invisibility.

Gasping for air, she trembles in the comfort of the familiarity that is her father's arms tightening around her, his words soft and worried and gentle as he brings her back to reality. She wants to cry and this body won't keep it in like she's been trying to now that it's in something it considers the ultimate safety, and though she knows her father worries more now, and wishes to know what hurts her so, she can't stop to even try to explain, or lie.

Arya clings to him and cries even as he rises from her hiding spot, as he walks down from the tower, as he crosses the yard and passes her brothers by, as she hears them follow because of course they're bloody worried, she's their sister, even Theon's though not by blood, and as he arrives at Maester Luwin's rooms, getting Robb to knock for him. All her grief, every loss and every pain she's felt, fills into her head all at once, mixing together so she barely knows which was real and which was a bad dream.

There's only one similarity that remains clear, of course, and she hiccups it out to them before she even knows what she's doing, "--it's all my fault! Everyone died and it was all my fault!"

They'll assume it was a bad dream, at first, but with how she's been acting and how she'll continue to be now that they're paying so much attention to her, giving her no freedom to run, they'll eventually realize that she knows things she shouldn't, and that the things she'll imply or say will come true. They'll know she knows the future, though if they'll think she time traveled or is another greenseer when they learn of the Reed boy, she doesn't know.


	2. he'll die soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was persuaded to attempt continuing this. Everyone knows I update multi-chaptered things slowly (which, sorry about that), but I'm gonna try anyway. Many thanks to LadyBritish for helping me out with this chapter!
> 
> Fair warning, Arya may not be the most trustworthy narrator at this time.

It all happens so quickly. She knows Maester Luwin examines her, but he doesn't manage much, she refuses to let go of her father because she knows if she does, she'll only lose further control, and Arya is more than a little afraid of what she'd do entirely out of her own control. 

She's not a murderer for nothing. 

Eventually she thinks they come to the conclusion that she must rest, but she's too out of breath and hysterical that she can't be certain. All she knows is that she's given something to drink, she forces it down when her father begs her to, and then everything fades into blessed darkness.

When she wakes up, she's warm and comfortable, everything she'd thought she wouldn't be. 

She's also not alone, holding her hand and resting at her side is her mother, warm and alive and clothed and looking exhausted even as she sleeps. She feels guilt knowing it must be her that has done this to her, just as she is guilty of her mother dying at the Twins, then later as a dead woman at her own hands. She'd taken everything from her before, she can't do that again. 

Nymeria rests at the end of the bed, but she doesn't do much but open her eyes, probably sensing a slight movement that Arya hadn't been supposed to make, and then make her way up to where she can be closer to Arya.

Carefully, employing all the training of the Faceless Men, she slips her hand out of her mother's, attempting to silently slide out of the bed, to not wake her when she needs the sleep and to learn what time it is, never mind how to get out of this situation without worsening it further. She'll have to bring Nymeria or she'll protest and wake everyone. Getting her on horseback will be a problem.

If she leaves-- if she leaves, where does she go that they won't search for her? She can't do as she'd planned to begin with, the rest of the North would rat her out immediately, even lock her up to wait for her family to come get her, and those that wouldn't, she'd rather not go near. The Boltons would be an idea if it wouldn't start a rebellion when she kills Ramsay. Didn't the Lord have another son, however? When was it that one had died?

Well, it doesn't matter, it was the Lord who betrayed her family, he'll get his soon enough. Turncoats like he and his have been on her list since the Freys, though in her last life she hadn't gotten to be the one to get revenge on the Boltons. 

The Reeds. Wouldn't they understand her need to be hidden and do her work? Perhaps, if she could get there and persuade them. She knows Lord Reed would at least listen, with her similarities to her aunt, and Jojen would wish to if he hasn't already seen her come back. Meera would go with what Jojen or their father asks, Bran had told her as much. 

Her brother had told her many things before she lost him, most useful and some she hasn't yet seen a way to use. She doesn't doubt him, though, he would not have told her something that could not be used, no doubt he knew she would do this when he died. He'd always seen what she'd do before she did it, once they'd reunited. 

She misses him. His understanding more so than his little hints, but him most of all. He's her baby brother, but the one in this time doesn't know her like the one before had, he doesn't know all the people on her list or everything she'd done, he wouldn't understand her need for revenge for betrayal not yet done.

Throwing a look of sadness back at her mother, she straightens what clothes she's been left in as well as she can, slowly opening the door to keep it from waking her and to check for any guards outside. There's none right outside, so she slips out as silently as she can manage in this untrained body, walking slowly to keep her steps soft. If she doesn't go now, she won't be able to for a while. They'll never let her if they think she's sick. 

She will need food, money and a horse. Clothes'll have to do with what she's got on, at least since she'll be riding South, it won't get any colder. She can live with that, and at nights, she'll figure something out. 

She's just passed the Great Hall -- a light shines out of it, so she avoids going close to the entrance where she can be seen, keeping to the shadows -- when the slam of a door a bit back from where she'd left startles her and Nymeria both, unfortunately bringing a yelp of surprise from her wolf and causing herself to trip on her own to feet, whimpering as she hits the ground.

For one quiet moment, mere seconds, she keeps still, trying to figure out if she's been caught or not, and just as she thinks she's fine, a familiar cry from her mother has her flinching, and trying to rise so she can run and hide somewhere until a better chance appears. She backs against a shadow on the wall and prays those in the hall won't see her when they run to learn what is happening, guilt swallowing her when she sees her father and her three oldest brothers leave for her shouting mother who by the sounds of it, is coming closer.

She can't seem to keep her sudden trembling under control, however, breathing becomes a touch difficult, making it harder so to control the sounds made. She'll be discovered like this, and the thought of it makes everything twice as bad, she finds that she can't hear anything but Nymeria whining in her ear and she wishes she'd stop, wishes they'd been better concealed. 

She can't even hide the flinch at the unexpected -- she'd gotten caught, she should've known, she's usually better than this -- touch on the shoulder Nymeria hasn't places her head on.

"Arya," it's Jon. He sounds like he is in so much pain. She has to look up, because what if he's hurt and needs her help, what if he's dying again and not looking is what kills him, what if she gets him killed again?

He looks back at her, kneeling in front of her, and his expression mirrors his tone, but she can see no physical wounds. 

Opening her mouth to question him, she can't seem to get any words out, her breath hitching when a second presence joins them, Robb, at her left side. Her dominant side, which is good, because she can fight with it, she can, but also bad, because that leaves her weaker side to get her out of there, and that side is already burdened by Nymeria. She's trapped now. 

Maybe she should not have made it seem like she's running. Her chances would have been better if she'd stayed and said she'd gotten hungry or thirsty, that she hadn't wanted to wake her tired mother, she can tell that now, but it's too late to try it. Her muddled mind has become her enemy.

"Arya," Robb helplessly repeats after Jon, trying to get her to focus, but it seems to be a lost cause for all she does is curl up into a protective ball, barely careful of Nymeria. Neither of them have their direwolves with them. That's good, less chance of some memories popping up. 

A sob finally leaves her when she hears Theon's scared voice close by, "here, Lord Stark, Lady Stark--" and the vaguely familiar feeling of her mother embracing her comes. She doesn't fight it, it's useless even if she does get free, she doesn't want to hurt her mother all over again. Hasn't she done enough already?

"--Arya, what's wrong," her mother begs her to listen, and Arya is not the only one trembling. "Please, sweetling, why did you not wake me?"

And Arya can do nothing but sob and laugh at the same time, because a part of her still wants nothing more than to give her mother the mercy she deserves.

Her mother lifts her and Arya cannot figure out where she finds her strenght. Nymeria is taken from her, but though she automatically reaches for her, she settles down a little when she sees it is Jon that holds her now, her father appears next to her, hiding Theon from her sight, and he searches her with his eyes as if he can figure out what is wrong with her with a simple look. 

Everything is wrong with her, he won't be able to find a single right thing about her. She's not young and innocent and feisty and happy anymore, all of it was lost to her long ago. To them it may have seemed like only a day ago, and they'll never know why now. She can't possibly tell them and be regarded as taken by madness, she'll never be able to fix anything like that.

This time she is not brought to Maester Luwin -- though considering Theon disappeared rather quickly from the group, she's sure he'll be with them soon -- but to the room her parents share, and her mother does not even protest at Jon following in with Nymeria as she settles Arya on the bed, staying with her on it this time. Her father, with barely shaking hands she thinks she would not have noticed without her training, tucks them in as Robb settles at the edge, a determined expression daring them to throw him out, Jon placing Nymeria near Arya's free side and staying by the edge, his eyes refusing to leave her for even a second. 

And as her laughter fades, sobs slowly following, Arya feels empty. Empty and exhausted and all alone in her knowledge. 

There's no one else here that knows what's going to happen, about the war of however many Kings, the wildlings coming South, the Others hunting them all, the Wall falling and Castle Black the first to be emptied out of people. There's no one there that's been through all that she has, no one as exhausted and ready for it to be over as her. She's got such a long way to go, and she hasn't even got the reassurance that the Reed boy will be willing to fight the future like she needs, that he won't insist on following his previous visions. Death is a gift, perhaps he wants it for himself just as much as he wants to let Bran fly. 

A tired smile passes over her face, like a shadow that's there for a moment and gone the next, as she thinks of that, knowing she'll be given mercy before the end comes again, even if she has to do it herself.

"Arya," she is disrupted from her thoughts by her father, Maester Luwin, standing with him and a panting Theon holding something out for the Maester, his worry showing in his eagerness to help by even running, when she knows at this time he hadn't been fond of it. 

She gazes silently up at her father, whatever is left of her unable to deny him the attention he seeks from her. 

"--Arya," he clears his throat, leaning over her now. "Will you tell us what is wrong? We cannot help you if we do not know how to."

The entire room is silent, a nervous feeling rising for every second that passes without a word. She owes them an answer, with how she's frightened them, she owes them something to go on. Anything that can make them feel even the slightest better. Wouldn't a chance to save someone do that? 

She'd weigh her options, but she's got none left, so she takes a chance and whispers, "the Hand of the King will die soon."


	3. you'll see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to LadyBritish for helping me out a little with this chapter too, it's a great help to have someone to brainstorm with from time to time!
> 
> As usual by now, Arya and her sense of time is not to be trusted. Her surroundings are mostly accounted for correctly, but she's started to miss a few things she would normally have caught, so keep an eye out for that.

As much as she wishes she could close her eyes, refuse to see the denial she knows will come, their insistence that she must simply have dreamed it all, whatever it all is, she won't. If there's anything she can still control, it's her stubbornness to stay awake. She's already made the mistake of allowing darkness to hide her once or twice too many times, it's what kept her from getting somewhere she could genuinely and safely make a change that she wants to make. 

The change where they're all worried about her, exhausting themselves trying to figure out what's wrong with her and not listening to her, that's one she'd rather not have made. 

Her father frowns, but there's more than confusion drawing his brows unlike that of the rest. They've got worry on their faces more so, but none of them seem ready to think she has seen the future, of a sort. Not even Jon, and Jon has never thought her to lie before. 

She supposes it is a good thing they learn this now, and not when she starts murdering people again, at least then they will be prepared if they catch her, and not too broken up about it. Still, it would be better if they believe her, so that she could tell them the truth of what will happen and not be claimed to lack any sanity at all. They would do better to hide her deeds then, not allow her to be executed for it. 

Not that she thinks any of them could do it, not her father who had always been partial to her, not Jon who has loved her the highest, not her mother who could never harm any of her children and not Robb, who went to war for his father and sisters. Sansa might have slipped up and gotten her executed by others, though, like she'd admitted to have done to father. Arya hates her a little for that, but she won't let this Sansa come into that situation once more, so she forgives her for it now, as well. 

"Arya," her father is hesitating, strange coming from him even through all the time she'd known him, so it is her mother that continues, "sweetling, you have been dreaming, it isn't real, I promise." 

She feels Robb grasp her leg through the covers, trying to support her she supposes, but he stays silent, watchful, like Jon and Theon. She knows they're still there, she hadn't heard or seen them leave. She's sure she would've noticed.

"You'll see," she whispers tiredly with a voice almost lost to the grief of the future, deciding that if she's going to start convincing someone and get anywhere, she'd best start with her oldest brother. Brothers. She might have some success with that, if she's careful with the things she say. 

This time she closes her eyes by choice, but sleep does not come easy. 

It is when she's less tense that they must think her asleep, for her mother begins speaking to father or the room or whoever will listen, Arya can't be sure because she can't see who she looks at with her own eyes closed, and her mother does not mention any specific person, "there must be something that had happened, something in the tower, has there been anyone there to look?"

"I saw nothing when I found her--" her father returns, but he is interrupted. 

"You wouldn't have seen anything but her, none of us would've when finding her. I'll look again," Robb offers quietly, almost so much that she cannot hear him say it. Quiet footsteps follow his words and then, "I'll come with," and "we both will," from Jon and Theon, who would no doubt not have been allowed to stay anyway, mother is not that fond of either of them and Arya understands their acceptance of leaving, even if it pains her to know they'll not fight to stay right there with her. 

It is for the best, though, if she's still going to have any chance of leaving.

She hears nothing of Maester Luwin, it's almost as if he'd never showed or simply left more silently than he'd came. She almost believes it, until there is a touch upon her forehead, perhaps to check for a fever, that is only vaguely familiar, one she does not attempt to lash out at because she knows it is someone she can at least temporarily trust. 

"Whatever it is that set her off, even if we find nothing, we must still find a way to help her," she hears him say, softly so as no doubt not to insult, but there's a way he words himself that implies there must be something wrong with her. Maester Luwin would have believed in magic if there was even a hint of proof, she thinks, but she has nothing. She has no wildling woman telling of the dead rising or dragons flying over their heads, or flames getting lit all on their own. She has no red priests or priestesses claiming the end is near, she has nothing to prove her words but that of her own, and right now her words are nothing on their own, nothing but rambling. 

She's the new Patchface. That's what he'd been called, wasn't it? Bran had told her of him, once, but she remembers very little of that particular story. Only truth hidden in madness, gained upon what must have been a visit to death. She has visited death many times, perhaps this is how it was meant to go all along?

There is a part of it that doesn't make sense to her, however, out of this entire theory. Why would Bran had told her so much that day he died, if he hadn't expected she'd be able to use it? He must have seen her make the changes to know what she needed to be aware of, he must have known when he died, or he would not have let it happen. Just as much as there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, he had showed her that there must always be a three-eyed raven fighting the Others. As long as they exist, so must he, wasn't that so? 

Her reasoning must be flawed somehow, or perhaps she'd been too expectant of the changes she'd made, too partial to her family. Bran had struggled with that, too, she remembers. He'd acted impartial as well as he could and she knows Sansa at least had believed it, and all the other Northerners, those idiots from the South, they'd all believed him when he'd claimed to be no Lord.

But he had struggled. Arya knows this, had seen it firsthand when he'd given her the dagger that had been used to attempt assassinating him.

The way he had looked at her had been coldly knowing only at first glance, but Arya is used to seeing every part of a face, the little twitches made here and there, the eyes that followed the most important thing to a person, and he hadn't looked away from her even once.

She feels a hand on her head again, there are no longer anyone speaking, she must have missed something while in her own thoughts. She'd hoped she wouldn't, she must know how they'll treat her so she'll know how to counter it, if necessary. It'll have to be treated as a possible assassination, then. All food and drink must be checked carefully, but not suspiciously so, she cannot give them leave to think she fears their actions, they will be much more careful then. 

A new face would treat her better, all she'd need is the time to get one, and someone she'd be willing to sacrifice, that she can blame for her own disappearance later on. 

If only she weren't so exhausted all the time.

Nymeria is still awake, Arya remembers her energy, it used to be that it had no end at this age, she'd always been running around with her. Now, however, she seems content to stay in bed with her, it's almost as if Arya changing has changed her. 

Can't be, though, Nymeria was dead by the time she'd done her little time crawl and Arya knows she was the only one to go or she would have made contact with whoever else, already. She reaches out and feels Nymeria reach back, but nothing seems to come of it.

This time, when a throat is cleared, she keeps her ears wide open, listening for anything she can use, and it might be that her luck is turning, for Maester Luwin announces that a raven has come by in a tone that implies need of being careful, of a haste in helping her, as if he already knows that her father will not deny the sender their request, "--he wishes to send his children here, m'Lord, for a time. It says they've become curious to learn and that he can think of no reason to deny them."

"Let them come, if he thinks they should, I will not deny him," there is no caution in her father's tone. That is very telling, it means he judges this man to be so trustworthy that his children are automatically included. It means that he knows this man would have raised his children to be so, though that worries her a little, for hadn't he thought the King had raised his children well enough that he could allow Sansa to marry one of them?

Arya cannot know for certain all those he would trust in the same place as her while he thinks there to be something wrong with her, she only has a vague idea, but a vague idea can be enough if she keeps in mind all the hints dropped, such as 'he' and 'children', and that they wish to come here, as well as 'no reason to deny them'. 

It cannot be the King, if she keeps in mind the last reason, even if Myrcella and Tommen were those curious, can it? The Queen would never allow it and Bran never told her of this, as far as she knows now, the King had little to no contact with her father until after Lord Arryn died. It cannot be King Robert Baratheon, she's not even certain if her father would trust him around her as he believes she is, or if she doesn't look too much like her aunt.

Growling at merely thinking about him, she startles herself a little, but someone gently pats her head, shushing her, and she looks up to meet the eyes of her father, a worn look not very well hidden behind the slight smile he offers her. She tries to smile back, even as tired as she feels, and though the way she does it feels familiar, it also does not. She might need to practice smiling again, if she's going to at least attempt to have them believe her.

"We won't let it continue, worry not," her father whispers these words almost as if he means for no one to hear his weakness. She turns her head as she feels something in the bed shift, wondering if it's her mother or her direwolf, and finds herself facing her mother and herself, startling her right out of Nymeria and back into her own body. 

Twitching, her eyes open on their own accord as she tries to discern if she's herself again, and she finds that both her parents hover uncertainly over her, tense and grim.

"...Did the King write yet?" is the only thing she can think to ask that will break the silence and possibly at least relieve them of any worry that her mind is completely gone. It will also tell her if it was or was not the King that sent a raven, even if she doubts it is. Best to know the facts rather than just assume and get it wrong.

"Arya, the King has no reason to send ravens to the North, there's been very little to for quite some time," her mother is the one to attempt being reasonable, this time. If only they knew. 

"He will. Soon, once the Hand dies, he'll need a new one then," and everyone knows that even Lords and Kings are sentimental when it comes to those they grew up with. "Wait for aunt Lysa's letter first, she'll accuse the Lannisters of it."

"--Arya!" her mother's tone sharpens at these words, frowning more so in disapproval. "You mustn't say such things!"

Her father, in contrast, says nothing. He merely sits back, again looking at her as if he can figure out all that is wrong with her by doing so.


	4. not contagious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see Arya attempting to step on the right butterfly, but instead she crushes a few spiders. Also, Arya 'talking sense into Jon' has usually been telling him things she see as facts and looking at him as if wondering if he thinks her to be a liar. Theon is actually very likely to fold just as easily as Jon if she throws him that look.

They shouldn't have chosen her. Anyone else would do better, would have set things in motion by now. Anyone that would've been an adult in this time should have gone. Of course, that leaves little choice left, but there had been a few that could've gone. That could've worked in the shadows, if nothing else. She would have done better dying in the future for someone else to go back.

A part of her feels guilty the moment she thinks it, but she's already thought it and can't take it back, it's there in her head whispering to her that she's doing no good in this time, she's only creating more problems, causing trouble for her family. Sansa would've done this better, if she'd been alive to be sent back. Arya's not half as clever as Sansa. And their mother would have believed her instantly, she's certain of it. Sansa should've been the one here, navigating the game, as she'd once called it. 

Arya doesn't much care for games like these, even if she knows enough to make sure she doesn't get caught in it. Never mind that the game had died out quickly once the dead came calling.

Her parents don't do as well in the game either, but neither of them had ever wanted to be. At least not after what had happened to her aunt. She doesn't wish to put them in that situation again, neither them nor the young Sansa who has yet to learn how to do it. Arya knows she can, she's seen it, but she doesn't want to have to watch it again. And poor Robb, he'd never truly gotten it, all he'd understood was honor and duty and family and love and no one had ever warned him that love is the death of duty like the now-current Maester of Castle Black would warn Jon.

Her mother is still upset with her, and her father must be too, for he does not distract her mother from her scolding, he only sits as long as he can and then he kisses the top of her head, pleads with her to be good, and leaves, taking Nymeria with him. For Ned Stark knows his duties and does not shy from them. His honor would never allow it, there is only one thing he'd give up his honor for. 

Arya wishes he did not hold honor so highly, she wishes he'll say no to being the Hand when the King asks, but the King had been clever when he did, he'd come personally. Bran had once told her that their father has had trouble saying no to duty staring him in the face since he became Lord Stark.

Peace comes in the shape of her elder brother Robb, "mother, you're needed in the courtyard, Rickon won't listen to anyone else."

"--you'll stay with her?" she asks it as if Arya is not even there, frustrating the girl who is not a girl, and her brother nods, "I will, until someone else comes by. I believe Sansa intends to come see her after her sewing."

Their mother smiles softly then, no doubt thinking of the gentle, kind and lovely Sansa, and though Arya feels a stab of jealousy like she'd always had as a child, she reminds herself that this is better, at least her mother did not have to see what her children became, Sansa especially. Even if it means spending the rest of her life suffering under disdain, Arya won't let Sansa fear like she had before.

Robb smiles almost carefully so, sadness peeking out from the edges of it, at his youngest sister as their mother sends her a stern look before leaving, sitting down on the bed she rests in, a presence she'd once relied on to be bold and brave and bigger than all their enemies. 

She'd trusted that Robb would come through, Robb would win and bring them all home, the Lannisters defeated and humiliated and dead. And he hadn't. 

They'd had both the Lannister brothers, once, and they'd let them go. She never asked who or why, not even of the brothers themselves, because she hadn't wanted to know which of the two, of her brother and her mother, had thought the trade useless.

"Jon will be by soon, and Theon too," he reveals quietly, reaching out to card fingers through her hair, so soft and gentle and with so much love that her chest hurts just by looking at him. "I told them I'd make sure mother left, so they could stay awhile. Rickon and Bran agreed to help with the promise we'll help them sneak in once you're moved, back to your room or to Sansa's."

"...Sansa's?" Arya asks, but there's no irritation or agitation in her tone like she's sure he'd thought there would be. She can see it on his face, he's questioning her acceptance even as he nods. 

"They didn't want to leave you alone, little sister, and you've not got any other sisters to share with." 

"Will she be alright with the boys being snuck in, then?" Arya had never thought she'd see the day before they lost her father, but in their later years, when they'd reunited and they suffered and there were so little of them left, sneaking into each others rooms was not a sin or a bother, it became a promise that none of them would ever be left alone, not even Bran who claimed to be nothing but a raven, soaring through the skies and seeing all there was, is and ever would be. 

She misses that Bran, knowing eyes and all.

"She has already promised she will not say a word to mother or father," and of course she has, if Robb was the one to ask. He'd been Sansa's favorite, the brother who would play Knight for her when she'd been young enough to willingly play with Arya and the rest, before she'd caught onto Jon being a bastard, though that might not come to be a problem in the future, she'd promised she'd be careful with that knowledge, but she had never promised to never tell. 

"Alright," there's nothing else she can say to that, and she needn't attempt to continue, because the door opens to reveal the two boys she'd viewed as older brothers even at this age, no matter the circumstances. 

Jon makes his way straight over to sit with her, tugging her into a hug as if he cannot stay away, but Theon closes the door behind them and lingers by it. She remembers then, what Bran had told her of Theon that had brought him her forgiveness for his betrayal. He'd never fit in, just as much so as Jon, and Arya too. She'd not truly seen it before, because all she'd seen was her stupid brother Theon who wasn't really her brother. But she sees it now, sitting between Robb and Jon. 

"I'm not contagious, you know," she tells him quietly, with a slight smile, treating him like she'd done in the future long gone. He tries to smile back, she can see it, but all she's granted is a twitch of his lips. Theon had always been the one laughing at her jokes, but she hasn't seen him laugh since before she left Winterfell the first time.

Jon flinches, however, as if she's said something painful for him to hear, "don't, little sister, don't even joke about that." 

Robb seems to get her, though, he's got a hint of a smile showing even though he'd only glanced at Theon before turning his attention on her again. How strange that she'd have understanding from Robb and a scolding, however minor, from Jon. Robb has always been the fun sibling, while Jon more somber, with Theon closer to Robb's demeanor. But for her, Jon had never said no to anything she'd asked for him. 

"I'm sorry," she apologizes softly, if only because she's never wanted to hurt Jon, never. 

She gets what she wants all the same when Theon sits at the very edge of the bed, just close enough that if she wants, she can reach out for him and he'll be there.

They're all hurting a little inside, and it's her fault. She supposes she can give them something, a little hope to live by in their worry, "remember Old Nan's tales? About dragons and magic? Listen to them, if you can, there's a lot of valuable information hidden in those tales," and she knows they'll not believe at first, that they'll struggle to understand, but when the time comes that they need that information, they'll remember, so she wants them to listen even if they won't believe yet.

If nothing else, they'll comb through it in search for what she says and in that way remember what is needed even before they need it, a solution ready the moment the problem is presented.

"Arya--" Theon begins, and he knows better than to call her a Lady, she's still no Lady and she's glad Theon knows better than to try that, but she still interrupts him just as she would have if he had called her so. 

"Won't you call me sister when it's just us?"

He looks almost startled, and she knows Robb and Jon are just as surprised, for she'd never cared for that before, but this will reinforce that little voice in their heads that she's more grown up, trustworthy in her words, and it will also remind Theon that he is not alone, that he has a place here, even if he has a sister where he was born, longing to bring him home again. 

"Do you not care for me as Robb and Jon does?" she coaxes, knowing he does, but also understanding that some boys are just as stupid as certain girls, even at their current age. 

She can feel Jon hide a smile against her forehead now, understanding exactly what it is she's doing. She's many a times been forced to talk sense into him, he can no doubt recognize moments like those by the very tone of her words. She doesn't bother looking at Robb, she still knows this version of him even if parts of that knowing has faded. He might be as surprised, but she's sure he'll approve once he understands. 

"Little sister," Theon relents with a roll of his eyes, but there's a hitch to his words that deny his attempt at pretending he's slightly annoyed and not at all touched. "Will you let me speak, now?"

"I suppose if it's one of my wise elder brothers speaking I'd best at least pretend to listen," she grins at him for good measure, knowing she's surrounded by said older brothers and that they'll all act offended and claim a need for vengeance. Jon still holding her makes it difficult to squirm away from Robb when he tickles her, Theon's laughter ringing softly in her ears as she laughs breathlessly. 

It is a good thing she can claim that these tears following are simply tears of laughter, she does not wish to concern them with her longing for this to last all of eternity.

"I believe you had something to say, Theon?" Jon offers him the first word as her laughter falls into giggling, Robb relenting on the tickling. 

"Yes, as I was saying," Theon throws her a playful glare. "The tales. Doesn't she make those up?"

Jon seems to pause at that, but Robb shakes his head, "she says they've been passed on for ages. Don't rightly know if it's so, but would be as far as she knows, she doesn't lie."

"The Free Folk beyond the Wall has them too. If you get the chance, you should ask them," Arya knows they will, though if it's that Osha woman that had protected her younger brothers that will tell them or if it'll come from the King beyond the Wall and his men, she doesn't know anymore.

"Free folk?" she'd forgotten that they aren't called that behind the Wall, she'd gotten used to using a different name for them. She supposes it's best if Jon knows, should he still wish to take the black, so she clarifies for him and her other two brothers both, "the Wildlings. It's what they call themselves."

It seems the topic fascinates them, Arya can do nothing but smile, despite the pain of how young they look, with such curiosity burning in their eyes. She wishes for years to spend telling them all that she'd learned about the big world out there, all the exciting and wonderful parts that she'd gotten to experience in between the darkness. It would be worth it for moments of their time of the life they've got left.


	5. they'd never make it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'safety' is officially my most popular fic on this site. Thanks, all. And an extra thanks to LadyBritish once again for spending time rambling with me about the fic, it really helps to get some feedback and ideas from other people, lets me know if there's something you all want to see that I should consider adding.
> 
> Also, Arya has little faith in her abilities to direct everyone until the end and there is a lot of information she either doesn't know or will mix up with other things because she doesn't consider them important.

She is more unsteady than she had been the last time she was out of bed, but that had been her choice and her forcing herself to be the very best she could be at the time, that was her ensuring that if nothing else, she would not be caught. This time she needn't worry about such, she's not alone and won't be for some time. Someone will always hover, it's just luck that it's only Robb, this time. 

She'd forgotten how easy it is to be with Robb. Her issues do not change that, they only ensure that he is there more. If she remembers correctly, he would have been out with Theon at these times. Instead he is here with her. She'd probably appreciate it more if she didn't have so much left to do.

At least no one else sees her stumble when she, after a pleading look at her brother to be allowed outside at least for a moment, sees the broken tower Bran had fallen, will fall, from. She doesn't know if it would be better to fix that or not. If his body is not broken, he might not think to bring Hodor, and if Hodor is not brought, the dead may overwhelm them.

Robb overreacts, of course, but she lets him coddle her so he'll give her some peace later. Maybe if she shows him she's alright he'll stop constantly hovering. 

"We need the raven," she tells Nymeria while they settle in the room she had once shared with Sansa and will again. "He's too powerful to not let it happen. But what would change if I sent more or other people? Can't be less, they'd never make it." 

Nymeria looks at her like she's just waiting for her to realize what she already knows. It's strange but then, some things happened because of the traveling through time that Arya hadn't expected. Nymeria could be just another change. 

She'll have to think about that, but it's not as important as making sure Bran becomes who he'd meant to be. Not yet.

"What do you think, girl, should I change who goes?"

"Who goes where?" 

Startled, she turns, and she wonders why she hadn't heard him come back. Robb is looking at her with a slight frown, but she knows it's not disapproval, Robb's never been able to disapprove of her where she's been able to see it. She'd like to think he never could, but she'd thought many things of her family and more than some had turned out to be wrong.

"Who goes where, Arya?" he persists, crossing the room to come sit with her and Nymeria.

While she can't imagine that he'd let Bran go North of the Wall, she also knows she can't say nothing. Not if she wants them to trust her and even listen, when she needs them to. With a shrug, she turns back to Nymeria, "someone should go meet the Free folk -- sorry, the wildlings -- because they've got information we'll need."

It's not quite what she's been talking about, but if she tells him, he'll tell others, and if someone thinks her to be true and messes up everything with Bran then they might as well just lay down and die already.

"The tales?" he's obviously puzzled by her words, but that's fine. She's just glad he remembers what she'd told them. 

"Sort of," which is true but also not. They've got more information than in the tales, and they'll have even more soon, she thinks. Isn't this around the time some horn had been found? She doesn't quite remember, but it hadn't been important because it had been fake. But the knowledge that one exists, that's important. "It'll be better to hear it from them, they'll be able to give you proof."

There is a mixture of emotions on his face and she feels relief war with guilt within her at the sight of them all.

She considers it luck when Sansa steps into the room and she smiles slightly at her, unusual of her at this age but she has missed her sister too. A little too unusual, she decides when Sansa pauses to stare at her, but she has already been caught, right? So long as she can still prove to be herself, how she acts shouldn't matter as much. She's sure their parents will at least be relieved there'll be less sibling rivalry on this front.

She intends to make it less with Bran as well, but she also knows she cannot decide that for him, she cannot act as if she is lesser than she is and not have him miss her. Sansa will be happy to not constantly be bothered, but Bran had been glad for someone closer to his age willing to play with him.

Sansa takes a moment to smile back, hesitant and uncertain, she clearly doesn't know what to do or say, so Arya gives her something to latch onto. 

"Robb's being an overprotective bother of a brother, save me Sansa," she throws a mischievous grin at Robb while she says it, listening to the giggle her sister can't help but let out. Sansa has always loved teasing Robb with her, she remembers the older one admitting it to her when they'd struggled to bond after their reunion, because Robb had always loved playing along.

Robb fakes a gasp of betrayal, "you would side with her over me? Sansa! I am wounded! How will I go on!" and it's all that is needed for Sansa to come over to the bed, laughing in delight.

"Sorry, Robb," but by the tone of her words, they all know that's not true. "I like being on the winning side."

"Join us," Arya holds her hands out for her siblings, still grinning wide. "And you can rule the world with us, brother."

There is laughter from the door and they all turn to look at Theon and Rickon, followed by Jon and Bran, "ah, are you at the recruiting stage, little sister, should we ask where we sign?" 

"We have to persuade Robb first, or he'll just tell on us and make our plans harder to go through with," Arya nods at Jon in a mocking attempt to be serious. 

"I have plenty of his secrets that you can use," Theon promises her, and Robb throws a fake glare at him and an, "you are supposed to side with me, you know."

"You are earlier than planned," Sansa tells them, asking without asking what happened, and Jon tries to smile slightly without somehow offending her. 

"Rickon refused to sleep before he got to come see Arya," Bran says like he has not been just as eager with the way he climbs the bed and settles as close to Arya as he can, Rickon taking that as permission to cling to her the moment he's set on the bed with them.

Sansa doesn't say anything, she just smiles, and Arya's left wondering if it's because their mother isn't there, she doesn't want to ruin it when it's all of them or if it's her apparent breakdown that brought Sansa to heel on the issue of Jon. It's not like any of them knows what she knows, only their father and the Reeds are or could possibly be aware of even just the slightest part of it all. 

Arya can't tell anyone either, not for some time. Their father might be the Warden and he might be willing to call the banners to protect Jon, but he'll also struggle too much to do it properly. That's alright, though. She'll tell Jon eventually, if their father doesn't, and then she'll protect him from anyone that might harm him for it.

"Hello," she tells Rickon, gently patting his head and leaning against Bran in an attempt at a hug that won't leave him embarrassed. Instead she finds herself surprised when he hugs her in return.

Conversation turns a little awkward every few moments but she kindly steers them away from her own issues to make it easier on them. Give them one night all together where there is nothing wrong. She wants them to be able to remember this when they think they might not belong.

They all belong to her.

By the time most of them have managed to fall asleep, she keeps expecting Robb and Theon and Jon to take their younger brothers and go, but they don't. Instead they stay with her and Sansa and she is glad she has been given the chance to save her siblings this time. It is soothing to lay in the embrace of her siblings, all of them close and split apart only by two beds pushed together.

She does not mean to listen in on their conversation... At first. 

Their father walks in, no doubt to check on them because they're all there and he must have realized that. He might have checked other rooms first, Arya doesn't know, but she imagines he hadn't, that this is the first room he looks in because this is where she is. It would explain the pause before he speaks after he'd entered, she'd heard the door open and she knows the difference between the gait of her father and her mother. And all her siblings are here with her.

It is not difficult to use her cleverness to eliminate options now that she is calmer, her night has vastly improved from the moment she'd entered this room and a part of her wonders if her strength will fail if she leaves it. It makes her wish to stay for all of time, if she can spend it here with all of them safe. Not a good wish, she knows, it won't do anything for the rest of the world.

She's selfish, though. The rest of the world isn't her world.

The hand on her head, stroking her hair, seems to agree with her, even as it stills for a second at the sound of their father's voice.

"Whose idea was this?" and she smiles into Rickons hair, glad it hides her face now that she cannot control it as well as she'd like, for he does not sound mad. Just resigned and a little amused and very much fond.

"They would not take no for an answer," Jon evades laying responsibility on any of them, he's gotten very good at that from all the times they'd gotten into trouble. Arya's fault most of the time and she thinks it will be decided as so this time too.

Her father does not continue the conversation immediately, rather, she hears him come closer and feels the bed shift slightly, knowing he's sitting not far from her, only her siblings separating them. It doesn't stop him from petting her hair, either, like Jon has been doing, and she's more glad now that her face is hidden from their view. She thinks the smile would have given her away.

"How has she been today?"

Jon hesitates noticeably before telling him, "better," but by the sound of it, he's not certain. He must be struggling to decide if it's better when she's obviously hurting and seem like she's lost her mind or if he prefers her when she smiles and laughs and talks as if the future events are common things and her advice are words she knows will be understood. She's noticed it, at least, that sometimes she struggles to differ between the siblings she has now and the siblings she'd hoped to meet again in Death if this adventure failed.

"And you?" her father asks then with a softer tone. 

When Jon says "better," this time, he sounds like he means it.

She should wonder what that means, but she doesn't. She only worries that if she does not shape up, he will only struggle more. She worries that Jon will hurt more because he's constantly waiting for her to be alright. They must've talked about this when she couldn't hear, that's good, she's glad her father still watches out for him in some ways, despite letting her mother treat him as she likes.

When Arya falls asleep this time, it's to the soft words spoken between her father and her brother-in-name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I point you all in the direction of this [free poetry book](http://kunnskat.tumblr.com/post/163943202914/a-poetry-collection-part-1pdf) I wrote? I want to get more out there so when I put the next one out, I'll have people wanting to read it.


	6. don't tell on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should be mentioning that I really appreciate the comments I got on the last chapter, they really got me writing again and they're the biggest reason you're all getting this update today. And not in another few months.
> 
> This is also 300 words less than I'd like it to be, but I really, really wanted to update today so I'm letting it go this once.

A servant smiles kindly at her as he passes her by and she smiles back as best as she can, grasping an apple from the table as she wanders towards her family.

Sansa turns towards her and calls out an, "hurry up," which is strange because that's not lady-like, but Arya thinks she looks all the prettier for it until the smile drops from her sister's face. Fear does not make her pretty at all.

There's a pain she thinks she's felt before, an embrace familiar to long ago when she was weaker ~~(she was stronger)~~.

"There are some things you cannot change," the Waif tells her in a whisper she barely hears through her own gasps for air, the wounds on her stomach the very same as those the first time around. "There are some things that must remain the same."

Arya gasps awake, hands reaching for her stomach and not feeling the lifeblood she'd thought would be there.

A sleepy grumble steals her attention, and how can she not hear it when she's so alert to everything, waiting for danger to strike her down, for the waif to attempt to kill her all over again, and again, and again. Something incomprehensible from behind her and when she turns, she has to keep herself still for when Rickon squirms into her arms, clearly determined to keep her there.

"Arya?" Robb's curious tone has her look towards the doorway to find him standing with a cup in his hands. "I thought you'd sleep a little longer, I only just left."

"...Woke up a moment ago," she admits if only because it'll explain why she didn't hear the door. Was it left open? She should've heard his steps, Robb does not walk quietly. "Water?"

"Here," he sits next to them, offering his cup. "Not water, so don't tell on me."

To her surprise, it's Dornish wine, and she takes care to sip slowly. This body is not used to it. 

"I won't. Why've you got this, is there a feast?"

"About to be. We have visitors," a cold shiver runs through her, her mind instantly returning to her dream, no, her memory. Visitors. The Baratheons should not yet be here, she has not missed that much time. So who...?

"Crannogmen. You'll like them, I think. There's a girl with a spear and she looks like she can use it," Robb almost sounds fascinated, and despite herself Arya cannot help but smile while returning him his cup. Meera Reed, must be. Her brother Jojen might also be here, she's assuming so for now, but even if it is only Meera, she is glad to know some changes happened are good. The Reeds would never be a bad change, not for the Starks.

"Think I'll get to be there tonight?"

"I doubt it, but I am sure you will get to meet them before they go anyway. Worry not, little sister, you'll have your chance," she hopes so, though not for the sake of meeting a female warrior like she's sure they'll all think. Robb grins and strokes her hair, "--go back to sleep, little sister. All will be well." 

She closes her eyes, obeying, and days pass like that of a singular day, rather than the plural until she sits with her sister, a needle in her hands that isn't the needle she wants.

"You're getting better," the Septa announces so all can hear, though the relief in her voice betrays her true meaning Arya knows the others do not hear it, with the giggles that erupt. Glancing over, she sees Sansa smile, but there's no laughter from her. Fear doesn't cross her face either, so Arya tries harder to dismiss the Waif from her mind.

They're dismissed earlier, the Septa citing the visitors as an excuse, but she smiles at them like Arya's never seen her smile before. Part of her immediately suspects her of treachery, but no, it's too unlikely, the Waif would not have come here this soon. Jaqen is elsewhere, she knows. He must be.

"Come, you'll eat with us this time and we can introduce you," Sansa offers like she always have, always will, with words that are just as much a command as a request. 

"Introduce me?" Arya asks anyway, the Sansa she'd known in the future had delighted in talking to her even about things they'd both known already. Why should now be any different?

Sansa proves her right by dragging her along and talking about the kindness of the Reed men and how much the girl had reminded her of Arya, only changing the subject when they get outside and get to watch Meera Reed fighting one of the boys that train with Robb and the others.

Arya watches Sansa look towards the other girls watching and nudges her, "s'alright, I'll sit over there with Jon, I bet Jeyne's gonna be there in a moment too and you know she thinks the other girls are boring," and who cares if it's a white lie, they both know it is. Sansa doesn't have to believe her, she's just got to allow it. It's easy enough, she's eager to be the beautiful little flower. 

She'll be the wolf when she needs to be, and if Arya gets to decide? That'll be never. No matter how much she misses her. 

"Does she sing often?"

"Does she...?" Arya turns her head and meets eyes that seems to know her. There's a calm expression on his face that is betrayed only by the curiosity in his eyes, and for a moment she has to wonder if it's directed at her or Sansa. 

But if this is Jojen Reed, and it must be because he looks just like she'd been described him, then how can it be Sansa, who is the normal herself as always?

"Does she sing often?" Jojen repeats, so she shakes her head, not sure if she should say maybe, or that she won't. 

"Do you?"

"No, not really. You're Jojen, right?" not anymore, that is. She'd sung before she came back, but it doesn't count because he's asking about now. Isn't he? She won't let him confuse her and steer the conversation, though. He's not really supposed to be here and she's got to know if he knows, too. 

"And you are Arya. Will you?" because of the way he smiles, it takes her a moment to realize he's still talking about singing. 

"Maybe," how can she know, now that she's trying to change things? 

"Would you save a song for me, if the maybe turns into a yes?"

"What would you even want to hear?" save him a song? She hadn't realized he'd be this strange, Bran hadn't told her this. 

"A song you've sung before, one you enjoyed singing," she might have to figure it out in the future, if he lives that long. As it is, his request is pretty strange. In this lifetime there's not many choices. 

"Give me time to enjoy some, then."

"If you wait too long you might not find me," he warns with knowledge of his own future, but Arya smiles again, this time just as knowing and tells him, "I will find you, do not doubt it for a moment."

"Arya," her father's voice behind them has them both looking, in time to see him look at Jojen in turn, a flicker of a smile passing through as he greets him as well, "and Jojen. I thought I might find you all here, have you been introduced, daughter?"

"Just to Jojen," though, they'd done that on their own. She'd expected it to be the same with Meera, but when her father looks over to where the fight had been and raises a hand that has the girl wandering over and introducing herself, she thinks she might have to make a better impression on her later on.

Jojen stays with Arya and her father when Meera separates to wash and change and Arya wants deeply to poke and prod at him and ask him about all that he's seen, if anything is different from before and if he'd seen her arrive, but Ned Stark doesn't believe in any of it, neither her previous memories or Jojen's visions, and to push on the subject while he's there with them is to ask for more bedtime. She's plenty ready to be out and about like before, getting confined won't help her. 

She's got a letter to search for with the Ravens, because it should've been here by now. Hasn't it come? Bran had told her-- 

"Where might I find the Maester? I have some questions I'd hoped he might have time for," Jojen appears to be looking at her more so than her father and she strikes at the opportunity, swift like a cat, "I can show you! Father, you don't mind, do you? I'll come right back, after."

He smiles at her like he knows she's lying, and nods in resignation, "go on then, the both of you," and Arya grasps Jojen's wrist and drags him along like the little girl lacking patience that Winterfell knows her to be.

"You have questions?"

"Yes, many. Though not merely for the Maester," he admits to her like it's nothing that he'd omitted that particular detail moments before.

"Are they about the things you've seen?"

"The things I've seen?"

"You're a greenseer, right? So the things you've seen. Are they the questions you want to ask?"

She slows down, letting him find the time to figure out what she knows and how. She needs him to ask. 

Arya needs someone to believe. 

"In parts, they might be. Would you answer any?"

"Not everything. Not unless it has to be changed," she can't afford that the important bits that'll save them get ruined, those has to happen. But other parts, he might already know most of those. "Have you seen anything past your last?"

"My last?" she shouldn't have asked that, it's clear by his tone, but she has to know. 

"You've seen that, right? It's not going to happen this time. But the moments after, long after. All the way to the end. Have you seen them? Did they change?"

"Do you see moments, Arya Stark, or do you live them?"

She thinks about the way he'd worded himself there and decides to trust Bran on this one person, "--have. I have lived them."


End file.
